My cellphone buzzes with a message and I slide it close to read the message. “Donelle says he’ll wait to sell the violin until you can get to Italy, as long as it’s this year.”
“Well there you go,” he says. “It might just work out.”
I sip my coffee, trying to bury the sense for foreboding in my belly. It’s just too good to be true. Going after that violin is dangerous and yet I know we’re going to do it.
***
On Friday, Blake joins us for our morning coffee and offers us a full update on his investigations. With him across from us at the kitchen island, I pray for good news. He starts with the man in the pharmacy who turns out to be just what we thought: press. No lead there to help find Gio. “Let’s talk about Kayden Wilkens,” he says, moving on, “the head of The Underground in Europe, I mentioned when I was here last. Kayden’s confirmed that there are, in fact, rumblings of someone trying to find the formula, but they didn’t come to his people.”
I frown. “That’s unexpected, right? You thought that anyone looking for the formula would end up with him?”
“Eventually, they’ll end up finding him if they really want that prize. Everyone who wants the impossible ends up with Kayden. Whoever this is clearly isn’t willing, or ready, to risk trusting them.”
“It could be Gio,” I say. “Or not. I don’t know. I thought he was dead, but Gio wouldn’t trust an outsider. He’d try to hunt on his own. But he also doesn’t have the skills to disappear on his own. Or I didn’t think he did.”
“Maybe this Sofia person does,” Blake offers, “though I doubt that’s her real name.”
All and all, it’s a discouraging conversation that ends with the promise of another update.
Scarily, considering Gio’s prolonged silence, I blink and another week has passed and it’s time for Kace’s charity event. Mark and Crystal leave days before us. That leaves Kace and I, along with Savage and Adrian, on a private jet to San Francisco the eve of the event. The rest of the Walker security team for the event will be local. The flight is long, and using a practice violin, Kace runs through his performance pieces. It’s surreal, flying thirty thousand feet in the air while this man plays a violin. The music that has always been in my heart and blood seems to blossom with every passing moment, into a new tree of life through this man.
Once we arrive in San Francisco, I have my moments of awe over the Golden Gate Bridge, the water, and the mountains. We check into the Ritz and before long, it’s us, Chris and Sara, Mark and Crystal, all in our living area, with wine ready to pour, but for Chris and Kace, opt for beer. A surprising choice from Kace, who loves his wine, but I say what the heck and drink beer, too.
“You know, Aria,” Sara says. “I do pretty much what you’re doing now, only with art. I can start sending you a list of the pieces I have to sell, if you like. I’ll meet Riptide’s forty percent.”
“Do I get any Chris Merit originals?” I ask hopefully.
“I’ll paint you one for you,” Chris offers. “But if you sell it, one of my two charities get the funds.”
“If you paint me a painting, I will never sell it.”
“I’ve been trying to get him to paint me something for the living room,” Kace says. “Now he offers to paint for you? What the hell?”
“Ms. Merit,” Mark begins, displeasure in his voice. “Are you trying to bribe Aria away from us?”
“Mrs.,” Chris corrects.
“Sara,” Sara corrects.
I laugh and everyone looks at me. “I just didn’t know he talked like that to anyone but me.”
Now, everyone laughs and for the first time in my life, since age eleven, I’m in a room of friends. Kace did that for me. I glance over at him and I see it in his eyes. He knows what I’m feeling. He’s the only person who’s ever been close enough to me to know what I’m feeling.
***
The morning of the show, which is Saturday, we wake and order room service. The amazing thing about San Francisco is that the weather is mild year-round. We’re able to enjoy our coffee on the patio, with an incredible view of the Golden Gate Bridge. I lean on the railing and Kace steps behind me. “What are you thinking?”
“I never thought I’d leave my neighborhood in New York City. Thank you for bringing me.” I turn to face him. “You’ve changed my life.”
“The feeling is mutual, baby. You have to know that.”
“Yes, but you—”
A knock sounds on the door. “Hold that thought. I have a surprise for you.” He winks and heads inside. I step back into the living area to find him rolling a rack of dresses back into the room. “What have you done?”